see for yourself
that there is a great change in me. One of the richest men in London
considers that I have a claim, to some of his money--through some
distant relative, it appears--and I am living at his house almost as
his own son."

"Is that why you forget your old friends so quickly?"

"I have never forgotten them. I wrote to Lois twice."

"Did you speak of marriage in your letters?"

The lad's face flushed crimson. He knew that he could not tell Paul
Boriskoff the truth.

"I did not speak of marriage--why should I?" he exclaimed; "it was never
your wish that we should speak of it until Lois is twenty-one. She will
not be that for more than three years--why do you ask me the question
to-night?"

"Because you have learned to love another woman."

A dead silence fell in the room. The old man continued to tap gently
upon the coil of tube, rapidly assuming a fantastic shape under the
masterly touch of a trained hand. A candle flickered by him upon a crazy
table where stood a crust of bread and a lump of coarse cheese. Not
boastfully had he told Richard Gessner that he would accept nothing for
himself. He was even poorer than he had been six weeks ago when he
discovered that his old enemy was alive.

[Illustration: "You love another woman, Alban Kennedy, and you have
wished to forget my daughter."]

"You love another woman, Alban Kennedy, and you have wished to forget my
daughter. Do not say that it is not the truth, for I read it upon your
face. You should be ashamed to come here unless you can deny it. Fortune
has been kind to you, but how have you rewarded those for whom she has
nothing? I say that you have forgotten them--been ashamed of them as
they have now the right to be ashamed of you."

He put his hammer down and looked the lad straight in the face. Upon
Alban's part there was an intense desire to confess everything and to
tell his old friend of all those distressing doubts and perplexities
which had so harassed him since he went to Hampstead. If he could have
done so, much would have been spared him in the time to come. But he
found it impossible to open his heart to an alien,--nor did he believe
Paul Boriskoff capable of appreciating the emotions which now tortured
him.

"I have never been ashamed of any of my friends," he exclaimed hotly;
"you know that it is not true, Paul Boriskoff. Where are the letters
which I wrote to Lois? Why has she not answered them? If I had been
ashamed, would they